The Captain's Major
by Messypeaches
Summary: I should be shot for this title.   Alright, cute, queer, short fluffy piece about Spider Man and Captain America.


You ever have on of those moment where you think you're gonna get one thing and something else comes out? I don't mean, like, when you think you're gonna get a chemistry set and instead you get socks like Christmas. Not that I ever got socks for Christmas. Except that one time I asked because I was all out of socks and..

Anyway, there's always that moment where you expect someone to lean over and go, 'no, that's not on sale' so you have to put the good ice cream back and hope you can scrounge up a buck for a McCone or you'll be craving the stuff all week.

And I was feeling it now.

I mean, I kinda feel it all the time, lately. I've been doing okay in my classes, they're all paid for, for crying out loud, Spiderman's an Avenger... Sometimes, anyway.

The scholarship that's paying for it all is through Stark, to top it all of, and since he KNOWS, I'm actually allowed a little leeway on my grades.

I've been keeping them up, though.

So there's a little of that, where is the other shoe feeling.

But that's not what I'm feeling right now. Right now it's, chocolate instead of chalk, see?

I'm on a couch, I'm half in my (boyfriend, boyfriend, my god, gorgeous and mine and the shoe that drops one day will be he deciding he's not gay, or that he doesn't want ME, or fuck maybe he'll just die) half in Steve's lap, in Captain America's fucking LAP, and he's wearing Khaki's and a polo shirt and looks like he fell off a Calvin Klein ad only well fed...

And he just told me that he'd like me to go to France with him on my spring break.

Because from there were could go to a lot of museums.

Which, okay, fine. But I'd teasingly asked "Hey, since when are you an art lover?"

And he didn't even bat an eye. "Since nineteen thirty eight."

No, this wasn't where the bottom dropped out of my world, this was, well, the part where I laugh isn't it but,-

He'd given me this rueful grin, then asked if I knew how he'd ended up in the army.

"I assumed you enlisted?" But something was niggling and I didn't know what it was.

"No, I tried to enlist, and got rejected because I was too short, to scrawny, and couldn't run a full mile without wheezying," he said. "Also, I needed glasses to read."

"You were NOT a dork," I accused, because that's what that picture was trying to be, right. Except Wait, there'd... It's funny you can hear stories all your life about a guy but when you actually talk to him it's hard to recall them all.

"I did, that's why I ended up in the super solider program," he gave a little shrug. "It's wasn't like today," he went on. "It wasn't like what I've heard about Vietnam. It was... Everyone wanted to join up. We were saving the world from absolute evil. These days the guys in the super solider program'd be, you know, Navy seals, but those days they didn't want to possibly ruin a functional man, when they had rejects like me frothing at the bit to fight the good fight."

I nodded.

"And it wasn't like I had a degree in any sort of, combat useful anything, so being a guinea pig was my only way to help the troops. It was my duty," he said, and really, if anyone else said that, it'd be, borderline cheesy but he's serious, he means it, he's just so. Damn HIM.

"What was your degree in?" Because, well, I didn't know. I didn't know he'd HAD a degree in anything other than certified bad-assery and nazi-butt-whooping.

I didn't know he'd been to college, period. i guess if I tried to picture a non-Captain America Steve I could see in, in a auto shop or maybe-

"Fine arts, was working on my Masters when the war hit home," Steve said.

That wasn't an autoshop.

I stared.

He misinterpreted it. "I was really passionate about art. The history of it, the way it reflects the values of society," he said, and I reconized the tone, and the 'I've said this before'-ness of the speech patterns. It was the same ones I found myself using when I tried to explain why I was on the chess club and astronomy club... And..

"You're an art nerd!"

He rubbed his neck. "I used to be. It's been a bear catching up with all the modern stuff, though. And I don't get Pollok. Well, intellectually but it's just... I feel like I missed something. Art changed on me."

"Art Nerd," I repeated."You're an art nerd."

"I was a student of art and art history," he corrected. "I was doing my thesis on the role of the hero in art."

"Lying isn't nice."

"No, I really was, I was about, half done when they called me back, so to speak. Like I said, I got rejected, so I went back to school and studying."

I couldn't help but, stare.

"So... Spring break?"

"I'll have too.. See I mean, there's... There's always stuff due after break and..."

He nodded. "Well, if you can. Wanna got to the Met this weekend?"

"The opera?"

"Swan Lake, Sunday afternoon?," and when he smiled my stomach did that little flip he can always make it do, because that lopsided, knowing and somehow... Somehow.

My stomach did another flip, because he was pulliing me into his lap and that was wonderful, it really was and when the shoe dropped it was going to be a mother of a mess to clean up.

"I minored in dance, you know."

~FIN~

I didn't make up the fine arts major bit. I really didn't. They make him a dork alll by themselves, I think that's why he get's along so well with Peter.

WHAT he majored in under the blanket term of Fine Arts I DID just make up.


End file.
